


Cheat Days

by unpathdwaters



Series: Cheat Days [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Does this count as a bakery AU?, Fluff (eventually), Getting Together, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Violence (off-screen), Protective Older Brothers, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unpathdwaters/pseuds/unpathdwaters
Summary: "Auston Matthews," Dylan said with delight, "Did you just make an appropriate gay joke? In my car?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an incredibly alternate timeline where Dylan got drafted by the Leafs, Mitch is a baker who wants to be a nutritionist, and Auston is about to go head over heels.
> 
> -  
> -
> 
> None of this real. Obviously.

The team stomped into the locker room-- or they would have if anything of them didn't care about breaking their skates. They were frustrated but not at the point of stupidity just yet.

Matt Martin looked over at Dylan, checking him for any visible bruises. "Are you okay over there?"

"Fine," Dylan hissed, the tone of someone who definitely was not fine. He took it slow, twisting from side to side and stretching now that he was able to take off a little bit of the gear that wasn't taped onto him, even if only for a few moments. There wasn't any permanent damage but he'd need to ice more than a few bruises when he finally got home. It had been a shitty game so far.

"Did you piss in Max Domi’s skates back in juniors or something, man? What the fuck," Marty complained. Domi had been over Dylan the entire game, which didn't help the Leafs considering they were down 2-1 with only twenty minutes left.

"We were on different teams in juniors," Dylan reminded Marty. "He just really hates me,” he sighed. Dylan, not for the first time since coming back to his stall for intermission, looked up at his cell phone, which hadn't lit up at all, if that's what he was waiting for. He had a feeling it might not even happen at all.

"You know there was a question in there, right? I know what team you played for. You never stop talking about fucking otters," Marty told him.

Dylan turned back to him and obediently finished with: “For life.” Groans throughout the locker room did nothing to deter his smirk and took his punishment of a ball of stick tape being thrown at him with the ultimate grace. Not even Brownie backed him up. Slowly, the other guys moved away, turning around to deal with their own intermission routines. It wasn't until Dylan looked up that he realized there was another reason they had left him alone.

Their pseudo- captain was standing in front of him. Dylan hadn't even seem him come towards his stall. He turned his face Morgan, trying to keep his expression blank. There was a reason Mo was rumored for captaincy. He hadn't even said anything yet but Dylan already wanted to listen.

Morgan knelt down in front of him and said quietly, even though he knew a few of the guys had to be listening, "What's going on, Dyls? What did you do to Max Domi that it seems like he wants to take your head off on the ice? Cause Marty's about to get a major game misconduct and I'm inclined to let him but I need to know it's for a good reason."

Dylan looked at his phone again. Still dark.

"I can't- it's not my-" He huffed and took a breath. "What Max did isn't my story to tell," he told Morgan, quietly. "I didn't think he was going to be this- I asked- during the first intermission but I haven't-" his phone lit up. He grabbed it off the bench next to him and swiped open to read the message.

Dylan turned the phone towards Morgan who read the two word message out loud. "Tell them." He looked at Dylan and hoping he wouldn't regret it, said, "Okay, then tell me."

"My brother-" Dylan started and then immediately stopped himself. He slowly put the phone back on the bench, took another deep breath, and started again. He already could feel the eyes of his other teammates on him.

"My brother used to play on a team with Max, back in juniors." He stopped to take a quiet drink of water, thinking about where to go with this.

"What?" Auston stopped pretending he wasn't listening from a few stalls over.

Marty came closer. "Those ages don't line up, bud. You've got an older brother in the league and one still in juniors. I know Ryan isn't young enough for that."

"Fourth brother. My parents..." Dylan smiled. "My parents adopted him after his parents kicked him out." He had said it so few times since it had happened. Not that he was ashamed because he wasn't. He loved his brothers. But Dylan needed to protect him. Work was for work, family was for family. Hockey was work.

"Why'd his parents kick him out, Dyls?" Morgan encouraged softly.

"The same reason that Domi used to kick the shit out of him on their team. He's gay," Dylan said challengingly, glaring at Morgan, Matt, and the rest of his teammates who had gathered around. "He's gay and his team or the office didn't do jackshit about Domi and his fucking henchmen."

"Dylan..." Jake's voice was serious and quiet. "What the fuck?"

"You wanted to know and I told you," Dylan's eyes were narrowed and he was daring anyone to say anything against him or his brother.

"Is he okay?" Auston asked. Willy made a wounded, questioning noise next to him.

Dylan leveled him with a stare, searching for something in Auston's expression. All Auston was conveying was concern and worry which apparently met with approval from his teammate.

"He's fine. As well as can be expected," Dylan sounded as though he was mocking someone else who had said something similar.

"Did Dvo know about this?" Auston asked. He wanted to know. He had to know. Before he flew to Arizona and kicked Christian's ass himself.

"You'll have to ask him." Dylan shrugged. "I only know a few of the names for certain. Every one of them were minors when it was covered up so names were kept quiet regardless. Understandably, Mitchy doesn't love talking about his time on the London Knights."

"Yeah, no shit," Marty breathed. "Christ, Dylan. What has Domi been saying to you?"

"Nothing, mostly. I don't think he's mic'd up tonight but he knows he's already been rough with me so if he says anything, the cameras are guaranteed to catch him. Asshole is smart." Dylan looked down at his phone as it lit up again. He checked the countdown clock in the locker room first.

"Look at it," Mo quietly gave him permission.

Dylan knew the team was waiting for him to speak. All the sudden it felt like too much. Like what had just been inbetween his family and occasionally Connor McDavid and once in a while John Tavares was now snowballing down a hill and Dylan couldn't keep up. He tried to focus just on Mitch and his message. "He wants to know if I'm okay," Dylan said quietly.

Mo paled at that, so did nearly all the players around him. Before Dylan could type a response, Matt plucked the phone from Dylan's hand and typed a response.

"I need to know what they're saying to him-- you guys can't just--" Dylan started to protest but Marty stopped him.

"We're just telling him that we've got your back, Dylan. We won't let anyone hurt you," Willy said cheerfully, as if he would ever be the one throwing the punches on the ice. Dylan didn't look happy but just silently watched as Morgan, Jake, Willy, Auston, and a few other players each texted something to Mitch from his phone. Hockey players were idiots but he wasn't going to argue with them. Not now. He had to pick his battles.

While Dylan’s phone was making the rounds, Auston went and nudged Marty out of the way. Dylan was staring at the floor of the locker room, not saying anything. Auston sat down next to him.

“Are you okay?” Auston asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Dylan said honestly, looking over at him. He kept rubbing his thumb over the textured fabric of his chest pads. “I think I’m more worried about Mitch, maybe?”

“Bringing up old memories,” Auston hummed. “Is he with someone tonight? Your parents or something?”

Dylan nodded. “Matty is home visiting our parents so they had a family dinner. I’m guessing Matt roped Mitch into a few hours of video games. Hoping at least. That's what they normally do whenever Matt's up from Hamilton.”

"What's that-- a whole hour away?" Auston joked. Dylan smiled but didn't respond. “Ask.” Auston prompted. “There’s no harm in asking Matt to grab him, right? There's no way your family didn't know this game was happening tonight. I'm shocked there aren't more messages on your phone from your family.”

“Mitch doesn’t like being handled,” Dylan said grimly, but slowly started to type out a text message.

“Wow, are you sure you aren’t biologically related?” Auston teased. Dylan dropped his head and laughed. Auston had never felt so proud. He wished he could say something to Dylan. Thanking him. Saying that he was scared too. He didn’t want to quit hockey. He didn’t want to come out to the team. He wanted to stay just Auston. Being Auston was more than enough for him right now.

"The family group chat is normally on Do Not Disturb during games," Dylan admitted. "We all started doing that a while ago because one time Ryan was arguing with us so much that he was nearly late going out after intermission." He laughed at that and Auston laughed with him, mostly happy that his friend didn't look like he was headed towards his execution. Well, maybe that was what Domi had planned but the Leafs weren't going to let him get that far.

"Gentlemen?" Babcock stuck his head in the room. "All ready?"

"Domi is a dead man, coach," Marty said cheerfully. "Hope you didn't want me out there for the rest of the game."

"No, why would I want a player out on the ice," Babcock said, slow and sarcastic. He looked towards Morgan and Jake, who both grinned. "Lord help me," coach muttered under his breath. "All right," he yelled. "Back out onto the ice."

Marty was back in the locker room within two minutes and while Dylan stewed on the bench, quiet as ever. It took Auston more time than he'd like to admit to realize what the problem is.

"Is Mitch going to be mad cause like- in the end, someone still got punched?" He asked quietly during a TV break. "Is that why you didn't want us texting him? Violent stuff?"

Dylan stayed quiet for another few seconds, eyes trained on the ice, before he responded, "I don't think Mitch could give a shit about what happened to Domi. I think it's more a reminder that hockey players can be violent regardless of reason."

Auston didn't have a response to that so he didn't say anything at all. He appreciated Dylan tapping his stick with his own as they slid down the bench as play started up again. They had tied it. Now they just needed a single goal in eight minutes to win it.

They also had to keep Arizona off their backs. Understandable, the players weren't too happy with them right now. Auston could only imagine what was going through their minds. He wasn't looking forwards to the texts from Dvo he'd get once it was all said and done.

Which didn't take long at all. Willy scored with five minutes left and the Leafs kept it up until the buzzer sounded.

The post-game media was a blur and Auston was pretty sure he sounded more like a zombie than normal. Whatever. They could deal with it. Toronto media would be on his ass regardless.

"Do you want me to drive home?" Auston offered, praying Dylan wouldn't take him up on it.

"Not even a little bit," Dylan laughed, knowing Auston's game off the ice just as well as he did on it. "I'm fine. I'm just ready for this night to be over."

"That's fair. Everything is good though, right?" Auston asked as they headed out into the parking garage.

"No long-lasting injuries." Dylan said happily. God their job was weird. He loved it.

"I didn't mean- I meant just with you and your brother. Mitch?" Auston tried to remember. 

"Yeah, Mitch. His name is Mitch," Dylan sighed. "I haven't heard from him. Chances are he fell asleep though. He's got early hours at a bakery. Matty said they hung out for a bit though so that's good."

"Hard to watch your brothers play hockey with a morning job," Auston commented, opening his car door and sliding into his seat with considerably less pain and carefulness than Dylan did.

Dylan's laugh sounded empty and tired. "Mitch doesn't watch much hockey and honestly, I can't really blame him too much, you know?"

"Sure," Auston answered. He couldn't imagine not watching hockey but then again, he didn't have a traumatic event associated with the sport. He especially couldn't imagine not watching hockey but having three other brothers who played and loved it.

Dylan shrugged even though Auston hadn't asked a question. "I don't know. It's dumb but I always felt like Max Domi was the boogieman. Like if I knew he was in Toronto at anytime, that he'd try to come find Mitch and mess with him when I wasn't looking."

"You wouldn't let that happen," Auston's quiet voice felt loud to both of them. "And with any luck, Max Domi isn't that stupid."

"I can't protect him everywhere," Dylan said bitterly.

"Something tells me you've tried though."

Dylan blushed and it was visible even in the dark car. "Apparently Ryan and I go a little overboard."

"I'm shocked," Auston teased. "Your younger brother makes up for it?"

"Yeah, Matty has set us straight a couple times."

"Well, Mitch wasn't going to," Auston joked.

"Going to what?" Dylan looked at him, confused and tired.

"Set you straight. Right? Straight?" Auston tried again, hoping he hadn't fucked up.

He could see the moment that Dylan understood what he had been trying to say. He sat up in the driver's seat, a huge smile growing on his face. "Auston Matthews," Dylan said with delight, "Did you just make an appropriate gay joke? In my car?"

"I was trying to help!"

Dylan used the heel of his hand to wipe away some of the tears that had snuck out while he was laughing. "No, god, it was good. I loved it. I'm going to tell Mitchy. He'll love it too."

"Take me home, Strome," Auston rhymed for what felt like the thousandth time since the season started.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already said it was an alternate timeline so...please pretend Ryan got traded to the Oilers a season earlier

"What's this?" Auston asked as Dylan dropped a heavy tupperware container into his lap once he had climbed into the passenger seat. He peered into the opaque container but it mostly just looked...brown. He tilted it and whatever was in there didn't move at all. The lid on top had a slip of paper taped to the top that said 'Auston Matthews' or maybe 'Autumn Mattress.' The handwriting was pretty atrocious.

"That is for you," Dylan said unhelpfully.

"Sure. It has my name on it." Auston didn't know Dylan's handwriting well enough to know if the chickenscratch was his or someone else's. Hockey players didn't really have the best handwriting. Auston knew that his own hadn't improved ever. "But what is it?"

"Mitch is experimenting with a new kind of...it's a traybake basically. It's for when you want a cheat day but it's not a cheat day. It's got tons of protein and not a lot of fat, but it doesn't really taste like it," Dylan explained. Auston looked at the tupperware again. Sure, he could see traybake in there. "He included a little sheet of paper in there if you wanted to run it by your nutritionist or the team's. He also wasn't sure what flavor you liked so he took the peanut butter ones out of my next batch and blueberry ones from Ryan's."

"Either of those sound good," Auston opened the container to look inside and was immediately hit with the peanut butter. "This smells...really good. You said he worked at a bakery, right?"

"For now, yeah. He's studying to be a nutritionist for sports medicine," Dylan said proudly. "He's always experimenting with some wild stuff— like he sweet-talked our landlord and now we have a little garden on the roof of our building— but he's had these down for years. I know the Islanders' nutritionist and Davo's approve of them but feel free to ask ours about it."

"Pretty convenient that he's got three hockey player brothers and McJesus to test traybakes on," Auston joked.

"I figured you weren't too picky." If Dylan was disappointed in getting a few of his peanut butter treats taken away, he didn't show it.

"Why did I get some anyway?" Auston asked. "Is it because of the joke?" He asked hopefully. He was still really proud of that joke.

Dylan didn't answer that one. He kept his eyes to the road.

"Dude, why is your brother making me fancy protein bars," Auston tried again, this time more gently. He didn't want to lose whatever ground he had gained with Dylan the previous night but he also wanted the tension gone.

"The team sent texts out from my phone to his last night, during the intermission..." Dylan flipped on his windshield wipers for no reason, quickly following it up with the button for the washer fluid. There wasn't too many ways to act busy while driving.

Graciously, Auston didn't mention that. "Yeah I'm aware, I sent one too."

Dylan looked over at him. "You're the only one who sent a text out that just talked about me and him and saying you had our backs. Everyone else was gunning for Max. I'm not saying they shouldn't have been but he appreciated the well-wishes more than the violence, is all."

"Oh." Auston couldn't stop himself from feeling pleased that he had gotten something right. Two things right if he included the gay joke, which he did. "Is this positive reinforcement?" He looked down at the tupperware.

"Only if something like it happens again, I guess." Both of them winced, hoping it didn't.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Auston had changed the subject after that-- not wanting to delve into Dylan's privacy more than the team collectively had over the last 18 hours. They discussed the upcoming road trip, the Red Wings power play, and chel updates. Unfortunately, after practice, the team had the same questions that Auston had except they had no issues asking them.

"How are you? How's your brother?" Morgan asked, way too casually, as he tossed his practice jersey in the laundry bin.

"Good?" Dylan said slowly. He looked at Auston, wide-eyed, but Auston only shrugged and threw a ball of tape at him. Marty caught the two of them and put on his serious face, gesturing towards Morgan.

"We want you to know that you can talk to us about- stuff like that," Morgan said, stumbling over the last part of his short but earnest statement. He would make a good captain but Dylan think everyone in the locker room knew management was just waiting for Auston to be ready to take up the mantle. At least there didn't seem to be any bad blood between them as a result.

"It wasn't my thing to tell," Dylan reminded him. "It was up to Mitchy." He wondered how slow of a time he could take untaping his legs and if it would be enough that the entire team would be gone by the time he was finished.

"Yeah but you've been on this team all season and you had to know it was coming," Marty interjected. He sounded almost angry. "We could have protected you better or you know, come up with a plan."

Dylan winced at that. He had kind of hoping no one was going to bring that up. "I was optimistic?" He tried. "Besides, you guys did protect me. You did, Marty," he promised even though he knew that wouldn't be enough.

"Try again," Morgan told him, arms folded over his chest.

For the most part, Dylan looked confused. "We're a hockey team. This isn't like- a normal job. Mitchy already took a share of beatings on and off the ice for this shit. Why bring it up when I didn't have to?"

Auston didn't like where this was going. He knew exactly where the conversation was headed and he wished he had gotten his gear off after practice sooner so he wouldn't have had to listen to straight people stumble over how they wanted to be supportive.

"But for YouCanPlay and Pride Nights? You couldn't say hey-- This cause is personal to me or-"

"We're a hockey team," Dylan said again, dryly this time, cutting Mo off.

"So?" Morgan's voice got a little more higher-pitched and Auston debated just going into the locker room showers with his pads still on. Once Dylan said his piece, he was pretty sure no one was going to notice anyway. Gretzy could walk into the locker room in only his skates and it wouldn't matter.

Dylan couldn't handle it anymore, that much was obvious. Auston braced himself as Dylan stood up and faced Morgan. He kept his voice level, "We're still a hockey team, Mo. I still hear more slurs thrown around this locker room and on the ice in the last few months than I did during my juniors seasons. Mitchy didn't want me telling you guys for him or for me. You don't know who you're going to run into in a locker room and there have been maybe a four or five guys on this team who I've never heard yell 'faggot' when they're annoyed. I had no reason to want to tell the room until I had to. If Domi hadn't made it his business last night, I wouldn't have said anything." Dylan explained things in such a mild-mannered tone that made it clear he had been thinking about this for a while. He and Mitch had probably had multiple conversations about it.

The room was silent. Auston tried to think of who had never really yelled the slur in a fit of frustration. He wasn't even sure about himself, which made him sick to the stomach. The only ones he could maybe think of for sure would be Zach and Freddie. Maybe Willy? He pushed himself out of dwelling and tried to break the tension instead.

"Is that why none of us have been to your flat?" Auston asked suddenly as the thought came to him. "I just-" He stopped himself again, thinking about it. "You always offer to go someone else's places. No one likes driving that much. Especially in Toronto traffic."

"Yeah," Dylan answered with a tired smile. He almost seemed proud that Auston finally figured it out. "Mitchy lives with me. Well, I live with him. I wasn't sure if I was staying up this season and then I just never moved out. I wasn't about to invite a bunch of hockey players into his space." Dylan shook his head. "That wouldn't have been fair. I promised him. We had a whole deal about it. Pinky swears were involved," he said seriously.

"With his schedule and yours though? Jeez, how do you guys manage it? You had he worked early shifts at a bakery." Auston said, pushing to make the conversation as casual as possible. He threw the last of his clothing into the laundry bin.

"Headphones for video games mostly," Dylan said simply. "He doesn't wake me up in the mornings and I don't go into the kitchen when he's experimenting with a new recipe. Unless he asks," Dylan added.

Marty still looked worried which Auston could understand. Dylan was his rookie. Marty had been brought on to protect Auston, Dylan, and Willy and he felt like he hadn't done his job. He hadn't had all the information but that didn't matter to him. Auston knew they hadn't heard the last of this no matter how much Dylan clearly wanted to end the conversation.

  
============

  
Auston watched as Dylan's phone lit up again. Normally Dylan was pretty good at ignoring it, especially during mandatory team bonding nights. Anyone would get fined if they were caught on their phone more than once.

Sure, Dylan probably had some leeway after since he called out the team at the beginning of the week but this bonding night was secretly for him. Auston was pretty sure it wasn't that big of a secret though. Mo had announced it early on enough in the week that everyone who had plans was able to cancel them so the team could all go to the same bar in downtown Toronto.

There wasn't much their teammates could do except "Be better" and stuff like that took time. Dylan didn't want a big show and neither, apparently, did Mitch-- they just wanted quiet, casual, and to live their lives.

When he saw Dylan frown at his phone for the third time, Auston moved to block him from view of the A's but not before Dylan himself looked around to make his way over to Morgan.

"Stromer," Mo pushed a basket of definitely-not-nutritionist-approved wings towards the rookie.

"Mo," Dylan slid onto the stool next to him. "I need a favor and you can feel free to tell me to fuck off," Dylan said easily.

Mo squinted at him, surprised by the casual tone but also too curious. "What do you need?"

"Your permission to leave for like- fifteen minutes," Dylan said seriously.

"During team bonding?" Now Mo looked worried. He had been concerned about Dylan for the whole week now and Dylan was willing to bet that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

"Someone else would do it but I'm closest and it'll take fifteen minutes."

Morgan eyed him carefully. "Can you tell me what it is?" He asked hopefully

Dylan shrugged like it was casual when to Mo, it seemed anything but. "Mitchy is on a date and it's not going well. He's complaining about it in a group chat and someone is offering to come bail him out but we're two blocks away from him."

"Seriously?" Their pseudo-captain perked up at the mention of Dylan's brother and they both knew that Dylan now had a bunch of leeway where Mitch was concerned. Dylan hadn't wanted to bring up Mitch again and they both knew he wouldn't be asking if he didn't think it was important.

Dylan smirked. "And the asshole he's on a date with is a huge Leafs fan." Mo let himself laugh at that and he took another wing from the basket.

"You've got thirty minutes and take two of the guys with you." Dylan winced at that. "You said the guy was a Leafs fan, right?"

"Yeah, he is," Dylan said slowly.

Morgan realized his mistake. "You can leave them outside if you want but I'd rather you have back-up," he explained. "They don't need to interact with Mitch-- that's not what I was going for but-"

"No, I got it- thank you," Dylan said fervently. "You're worried about the situation and you don't want me going in there alone regardless. You're just looking out for me."

"Exactly," Mo said quickly, relieved.

Dylan shot a quick text to Mitch. "Seriously, thanks."

"Dylan, would you have asked if I hadn't- if the team hadn't have known?" Mo asked, stopping Dylan before he made to leave.

He took a few seconds to think about it. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "This hasn't really happened before and I probably would have let someone else handle it but I would have been worried the whole time because it's only two blocks away," he admitted.

"Okay," Morgan said. "Thank you. I'm glad- I'm glad you're able to ask me then." Dylan smiled at him and Morgan was 90% sure it was more genuine than any smile Dylan had given any one of the A's since the beginning of the week.

Dylan: One of my A's gave the OK. Eta 2 minutes. Will have 2 extra Leafs with me. OK to shock the dude or leave them outside?  
Mitch: Your call. If you trust them, sure. If not, then keep them as muscle outside <flex emoji>

Dylan scanned the bar until he found what he was looking for. He hadn't been joking when he had talked about the few people left on the team he had never heard slurs from. And whether it was consciously or not, he had kept track of them. He couldn't see Freddie but he did see Willy and Auston at a table together, with a few guys standing next to them. "You guys up for a top secret mission?"

"Does it involve not being here anymore? Why do we let Connor choose the bars?" Willy said, purposefully loud so that Brownie could hear him. Willy dodged a crumpled-up straw wrapper.

"Great question. And yeah, it's two blocks away. Mitchy is on a shitty date and Morgan said I could go grab him out of it to send him home." That got everyone's attention.

"Someone's being a dick to your brother?" Auston perked up. "What the hell?"

"One of his classmates convinced him to go on a blind date, I guess, and the guy is just kind of a pompous ass and he'd rather someone take him out than if he tried to leave himself. He's got a different class with the guy for the rest of the semester-- a group project," Dylan nearly growled while telling them. Then he stopped himself. "Oh," he smirked, "the guy is a Leafs fan too."

Auston and Willy both sat up straight at that.

"You're kidding?" Willy said gleefully. "This is the best news I've heard all day. Where's the bar?"

"Two blocks away. I already cleared it with the Mo."

"I'm absolutely in. Man, I wish we hadn't Uber'd, we could have grabbed some gear to put on," Willy said wistfully.

Dylan rolled his eyes. "I think they'll be able to recognize the 2016 First Overall pick. And, you know, the two of us."

"Rude," Willy sniffed. Auston just shrugged at him. He still wasn't used to it but Toronto fans definitely knew who he was regardless of where he was, the time of day, or how intoxicated they were.

Ten minutes later had them bouncing in to the bar, energized from the brisk, cold walk through Toronto nightlife as the winter continued to hang on. Before the bar patrons could recognize and stop them, Dylan practically sprinted towards the back half of the bar.

"Mitchell Marner! I've been looking everywhere for you." Dylan said loudly. "What's going on? I thought we had a thing tonight."

A slight brunette with messy hair and brilliant blue eyes was sitting across from a a guy with a buzzcut who thought it was okay to wear a worn polo shirt on a date. It didn't take a genius to figure out which one was Dylan's brother.

The first thing Auston really saw Mitch Marner do was roll his eyes at Dylan. It would be the first of many, many times.

"A thing. They had a thing. Brilliant improv, this guy," Willy muttered.

"Hey now," Auston managed to hiss back. "It's not like you could do anything better."

"Watch me." Willy said with a smirk and sauntered over to the booth. Dylan had crowded in on Mitch's side so Willy took a seat with the date, making sure to make it known that the guy's polo shirt was incredibly offensive to him on many levels. "We were waiting forever. Did you mix up the nights or did we?"

"I- uh- you," Mitch's date stuttered. They both ignored him and Auston took that as his cue to come in.

"Yo," he said simply, ignoring the glare from Willy. He squeezed in on Dylan and Mitch's side of the booth. "I told these guys it was the wrong night and you had a date but they didn't listen to me," he said easily. "We planned it wrong anyway cause, you know, we got a game tomorrow night."

"Hockey," Dylan sighed dramatically. "Always getting in the way."

"Damn Bruins," Willy said supportively.

"Right so with the game, we're going to need to switch our plans to tonight so long as-" Auston finally pulled his gaze away from Mitch and looked pointedly at Polo Shirt, whose jaw hung low at the sight of the three Maple Leaf rookies crowding his booth and his date.

"Trent," he offered dumbly.

"As long as Brent doesn't mind," Auston said cooly, trying not to seem too pleased with himself. Willy looked like he was about to break into laughter and Mitch was no better. He was squished against the end of the booth but pushed his plate of half a burger and sweet potato fries towards Willy. Mitch already seemed much more relaxed than he had when they first showed up. Dylan was mostly glaring at Trent, doing his best older brother "dare me" stare. "I'm sure he doesn't. Luck and all that."

"Luck? Mitch? What? He-" Dylan was the one to cut him off this time.

"It's on me," he said casually, dropping two twenties on the table. "I'm sure you guys can re-schedule. We're so sorry that we're going to have to grab him and go." Dylan did not even try at all to look sorry but Auston didn't blame him. Trent kept looking between all four of them like he couldn't believe what was actually happening. That the guy who he had, up until five minutes ago, been being an ass to was being swept away from three Toronto Maple Leafs players whose jerseys were already hanging up on the far side of the bar.

As quickly as they sat down, they got up again, Mitch following close behind Dylan and Willy with Auston bringing up the rear. He couldn't help himself and had to look back at Trent who still was pulling his best impression of a gaping fish. Amazing.

Dylan brought them to the other side of the bar into a different room, far from Trent and his booth.

"I need a drink after that. God that was fun. His face was great." At least Willy had the sense to keep his voice down. He still had two of Mitch's french fries in one hand. "This place does good fries. Think we can get some to go? The other bar doesn't have sweet potato fries."

"Morgan only gave me fifteen minutes," Dylan reminded him. He didn't argue with Willy stopped in front of the bar though.

"I thought it was thirty? Fifteen there and fifteen back," Auston tried to remember what Dylan had told them before they had left the rest of their teammates.

"Right, you're right. How far away does he think two blocks is?" Dylan wondered, he was sticking close to Mitch while indulging Willy which was pretty impressive. Auston, embarrassingly, couldn't stop watching Mitch. He came up on the other side of him so Mitch was bracketed between Dylan and Auston.

He didn't seem too shaken up or uncomfortable but he also didn't seem relieved either. Auston tried not to look at where Mitch's arms were in view courtesy of his folded up button-down sleeves. He was a few inches shorter than Dylan and Auston but not too much shorter than Willy. Auston wanted to blame the blue shirt Mitch was wearing for why he kept getting distracted by Mitch's eyes but he knew that wasn't the case.

“I don't think he said but I’m Auston, by the way. That’s Willy.” Auston nodded towards Willy who had somehow managed to get the bartender's attention. Granted, that could be the hair or the hockey. Maybe both.

“Nice to meet you,” Mitch said politely. He seemed...cautious which was fair. Dylan watched their exchange closely and Auston met his eyes before continuing.

"I did this for my sister before. People suck. Are you okay? Do you feel uhhh safe?" Auston said lamely, wanting to kick himself. He kept going on. "Cause I can totally vouch for Dylan with our team leaders if you'd rather he take you home instead of just putting you in an Uber?" Auston promised.

Mitch gave him a laugh, tired but still there, and his entire expression changed. Auston immediately felt his stomach drop. Oh god. Oh no. Dylan's brother was cute. He was really cute.

"I'm good, I promise. I should have known that since the cat was out of the bag and Dyls knew this guy was a Leafs fan, that this was going to happen." Mitch rolled his eyes. He didn't seem angry at least. Auston would take that as a win for sure.

"You think we should have swung by the ACC and gotten Carlton?" Auston asked with a serious look on his face. "It's not too late. I'm sure we can call in a few favors.”

Mitch rolled his eyes again. “That’s not necessary, I promise. With any luck he's long gone.” Auston was going to move closer when-

"You with those faggots?" All four of them froze for a moment, not quite knowing how to immediately react.

"Excuse me?" Willy drew himself up to his full height which, while shorter than Dylan and Auston, was still taller than the asshole at the bar who had just drunkenly slurred at them.

"I saw that one in the other room. On a date," the man sneered.

"You want to go?" Willy pressed his hand to his own chest as if to say "Moi? You want to do this with me?"

Dylan had his head in his hands and moaned quietly, "Willy, please, I don't want to end up on SportsNet and neither does Auston."

Auston was still standing in front of Mitch, blocking his view from the guy who seemed to realize who exactly had yelled back at him. "So, how's your night going?" Auston asked, pretending as though Willy wasn't about to make Auston call their PR person at 11 o'clock on a Thursday night.

"You realize I can still see them, right?" Mitch raised an eyebrow at Auston. "Hockey players are built like trucks but I can still see around you."

Auston had never wanted to follow up on a comment more than that one.

"See who?" He asked instead.

"You’re not clever and I hate you," Mitch told him, very matter-of-fact.

"God I hope not. I wouldn't get any more baked goods that way," Auston said with a smirk. Then he lowered his voice a bit and twisted to the side so it wouldn't seem like he was protecting Mitch but Mitch was still mostly hidden. "We didn't know about you. I mean-- Dylan never told us so I figure the rest of the world doesn't really know about the fourth Strome brother either. People take photos of us and it's whatever. But if they start asking questions..."

"They'll want to know why you're here and not at a bar two blocks over with the rest of the team," Mitch finished. He didn't look happy about the situation but he seemed to understand. "I don’t suppose the press would buy that Willy just wanted sweet potato fries. Thanks," he added belatedly.

"No problem. I don't want to make this suck for you and Dylan more than it already does."

Mitch looked surprised at that. "It doesn't suck. It's just-" Mitch looked away as the shouting started up again. Dylan was standing next to Willy who had his arms up in the air even though each hand held a takeaway box of what Auston assumed was sweet potato fries. The bouncer had come to grab the guy who had been shouting at them. Well, he was still shouting at Willy-- words that would definitely get them suspended from the team if they used them on the ice. They would have gotten Max Domi suspended after the game too if someone had managed to catch him.

"You shouldn't say that, you know. You're being super offensive and it's basically an attempt to incite violence," Willy said, a lot calmer than he had been a few moments ago now that the guy was getting kicked out. Auston had heard that line before. He was pretty sure it was word-for-word from the video they all had to watch during February and #HockeyisforEveryone month. "Also I'm not allowed to fight you because then Auston or Dylan is going to have to call and wake up our PR person." That got chuckles from around the bar. Sure enough, they were already being filmed. Multiple people in the bar had their cameras out. Auston took the hint and exaggeratedly shook his head, covering his face with his hand.

"Yeah, something tells me we're going to have to do that anyway, Will," Dylan drawled. "Think I can blame you for this one?"

"I didn't do anything! That guy started it!"

"He did start it," the bar patron next to Willy offered. The girl next to him nodded and a few other people in the crowd did too. God, of course, they had attracted a crowd. "We'll totally back you up."

Willy leaned over to the guy. "Our PR people don’t care much about who started it," he whispered loudly so the whole bar could hear. He looked up at Auston and Dylan. Mitch had already started wiggling his way towards the exit, away from the cameras. Auston couldn't blame him much. "We ready to go?" He turned towards the bar patrons and their camera phones. "Have a good night!" He said cheerfully.

"Thirty minutes," Dylan muttered as he followed Auston and Willy out of the bar. "I told Morgan that we'd be a half hour and then back without issue."

"I'll call Nikki," Auston offered, knowing their main PR person would possibly be awake still. "But--" all three of their phones started buzzing at once. "Yep, there she is. Nevermind."

Willy was the one who got an actual phone call. He picked it up and immediately started with, "We already left," he promised. "We're going back to the other bar and personally, I feel like I handled myself- okay I'll shut up," he swallowed comically and handed the phone to Dylan. "She wants to talk to you."

Auston didn't bother listening as Dylan explained the situation to Nikki. He pulled out his own phone and handed it to Mitch. "You want an Uber?"

"I ordered one," Mitch said gratefully. "Thanks though."

"The least I can do after you gave me those fancy brownies," Auston smiled at him and Mitch smiled back. It quickly dissolved into a smirk.

"You mean the non cheat day cheat brownies?" Mitch teased and Auston wanted to stay here forever. In a little bubble outside a Toronto bar at 11:30 PM on a Friday, just him and Mitch with Mitch looking at him like that. People were jostling them to get by and angry Toronto residents in their cars were laying on the horn to get by but Mitch was looking at Auston and teasing him and Auston never wanted to move from this spot. If he imagined hard enough, he could picture that it was him and Mitch ending a (more successful, hopefully) date.

He forced himself to answer, "That's way too long of a name."

"It's better than fancy brownies," Mitch argued.

"You can't tell me that wouldn't look good with a fancy font on labels for sale though." Auston reasoned. "It would be like- meta."

"It's funnier to watch professional hockey players say the longer name," Mitch whispered conspiratorially.

"Dylan?"

Mitch shook his head. “JT.”

“John Tavares," Auston checked and Mitch nodded. "How did that happen? Oldest Strome?"

"Yeah, Ryan, back when he was still on the Islanders." Mitch shrugged. He took a step closer to Auston, making sure he still had eyes on his brother who now was trying to share the phone with Willy so they could both talk to Nikki at the same time. "He was eating one and JT stole a few because he couldn't help himself and then he took some to the Olympics and then well-."

**_\--flashback--_ **

_"Hello, I'm looking for Mitchell Marner? This is Sidney Crosby and-" Sidney was talking to nothing on a dead phone line. He was almost sure he had heard a noise though. It kind of sounded like a squeak._

_"Mitchy?" Matt Strome looked up at his new big brother with sleepy eyes. "What's wrong?" he murmured, stretching a little even though Matt was already too big for the Stromes' couch. He was also too heavy for Mitch but he had let Matt fall asleep with his head in Mitch's lap anyway._

_"Nothing." Mitch shook his head. "It was just a prank call, I think. Go back to sleep."_

_"I'm watching curling. Go Team Canada," Matt mumbled._

_"You're sleeping through curling," Mitch said fondly, running a hand through Matt's hair._

_"Am not..." Matt tried to argue but he was already drifting off again. Mitch set his phone back on the armchair of the couch, eyeing it warily, worried it was going to start ringing again._

_It did light up but this time with a text message from Ryan. "Hey, JT said that he gave Sidney your number because of the traybakes. Sorry, I'm going to kill him. You might get a call from Sidney Crosby. Feel free to ignore it."_

_Mitch snatched up his phone and rang Ryan immediately. "Why does JT even have my number, Ryan?"_

_"For emergencies," Ryan said, wounded. "He has Ryan’s number too, just in case. I didn't even realize he had taken the traybakes over there. I'm going to kill him."_

_Breathing deeply, Mitch tried to figure out a plan. "I'll send him more, Ry. I don't mind that part. So long as he doesn't give them to anyone else."_

_"We can't be sure the entire Team Canada hockey team hasn't had them. John can't keep his mouth shut apparently and he said the food is shit over there," Ryan said, oblivious to Mitch's panic._

_"Ryan," Mitch said tightly, with an iron grip on his phone. "I can't have NHL players calling my phone. Please," he begged._

_"Shut your phone off, Mitch," Ryan ordered. "Or give it to Matty and I'll explain everything and he'll field the calls. Just have him say that he's your assistant."_

_"Dylan is going to punch you in the face," Mitch muttered._

_"I can take Dylan," Ryan sounded like he was worried regardless. Dylan had been fiercely protective of Mitch and no one could blame him. Matt had picked up the habit too. Not that Ryan hadn't but the oldest brother always seemed to be considering the long-term consequences. "Think ahead, Mitch. You can charge Sidney Crosby and JT whatever you want for these things, including shipping charge. Great way to make money and you'll already have a consumer base for when-."_

_"I gotta go, Ry," Mitch said quietly. "You can be the ones to text Matty and Dylan to explain everything, okay? I'm going to shut my phone off."_

_Ryan's answer was just as quiet and resigned. "All right, Mitch. I'm sorry about all this."_

_"Sure." Mitch hung up to see that Matt was awake and listening to every word._

_"Do I need to punch Ryan?" He asked innocently, looking up at Mitch. He hadn't bothered moving which Mitch appreciated. The weight grounded him._

_"Maybe."_

_"Was the prank call actually Sidney Crosby? Did you really hang up on Sidney Crosby?" Matt asked curiously._

_"Please stop saying his full name," Mitch groaned. "I actually think I squeaked before I hung," Mitch said grimly. "Not my finest moment."_

_"Fine. I won't punch Ryan. I am going to tell Dylan though. And little Ryan. They'll punch him. "_

_"I'm sure we're going to be hearing from Dylan soon enough. Big Ryan said he texted you both the same thing. Or at least he was going to."_

_=====_

_"John wanted to call you and apologize but I said he was sort of missing the point," Ryan laughed._

_"A little bit yeah." Mitch managed to laugh too now that there wasn't a danger of hockey players calling his phone. Or, at least, more hockey players than normal_

_"Well, no one claimed he was a genius. He wants to pay you though- same as Sidney does." Ryan brought up again, not as casually as thought. Still, Mitch had thought about it._

_"You were right about...the money." He liked the idea of having money that was earned and not from any of the Stromes._

_"Mitch, you have to know that I'm going to take care of you. Even if Mom and Dad didn't-- I'm here and I've got you if you need it," Ryan promised. "But I know you want to be self-sufficient. Getting hockey players addicted to your ridiclous healthy brownies is a good way to go.”_

_"You're right."_

_"I know. It sucks doesn't it?" Ryan said brightly._

_"Kind of," Mitch mumbled and then sighed. He couldn't even talk to Crosby on the phone. How was he going to sell any of them on bi-monthly traybakes._

_"Maybe e-mail?" Ryan suggested before Mitch had even spoken again. "Maybe have them send their orders by e-mail."_

_"I heard Crosby doesn't even have a computer," Mitch tried but he knew that Ryan was right. It was a good idea._

_"Text message then." Ryan started getting excited. "That could work. They could either mail you checks or just deposit money into an account. We'll set up a whole system for you."_

  
_===========_

"Now you sell fancy protein brownies to Sidney Crosby." Auston took in Mitch's unimpressed face and tried again, "Now you sell non cheat day cheat brownies to Sidney Crosby," he corrected himself.

"And he pays very well for them," Mitch agreed, with a devious smile on his face. Willy came up and held out his box of sweet potato fries. They both took a few.

"God I don't want to go back to that bar," Willy whined.

Mitch laughed at Willy, "Well, I'm going to go home and play video games, so I highly recommend that."

"I wish tonight's team bonding was video games," Willy said absentmindedly, trying to stack his boxes on top of one another so he could slip his phone back into his pocket.

Auston watched as Dylan and Mitch had a whole conversation without speaking. Dylan did a final eyebrow-raise with a confused expression before saying, "You guys can come over to our place next week for a CoD tournament."

Auston managed to keep his expression cool but Willy just let a huge grin grow on his face. This was huge and unexpected but they weren’t about to say no.

"Dylan tells me that you're garbage at it," Mitch teased Auston, taking another fry from Willy.

"That's what you tell your brother about me?" Auston complained, turning to Dylan. "I'm way better than I was in the beginning of the season."

"Mitch will be exhausted because of finishing mid-terms and you'll still be terrible so if we split you up, it'll be even odds," Dylan thought out loud, ignoring Auston. "This could work."

Mitch shook his head at Willy, refusing any more fries. He had spotted his Uber coming down the block and gave Dylan a hug. He looked at Auston, "Don't worry-- I'll teach you. See you at home, Dyls!" He said, grin bigger than it had been when they first walked into the bar.

Auston shut the door behind him. "Bye," he said lamely even though the car door was already closed and speeding away. He could still see Mitch's smile through the tinted window.

Mitch Marner was cute and Auston Matthews was totally fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: this chapter goes into more detail re: mitch's injuries, disownment, & how he left hockey

The fallout from the team bonding night wasn’t as bad as Auston expected, either negatively or positively. The team (mostly Willy) got just enough good attention from the incident to win praise but not enough that anyone was suspicious as to why the man at the bar had singled them out in the first place. He was just written off as a drunk who was mad about turnovers from the team's most recent loss. Auston scrolled through his Twitter timeline and let himself relax a little bit. There was no mention of Mitch at all so at least they had gotten that right.

"I handled myself very well," Willy proclaimed after the last reporter had left the locker room after the team's open practice that morning.

Mo snorted. "You're basically a gay ally to the point where people are accusing the front office of organizing the whole thing." He shook his head. "I can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad thing."

"What's going on?" Matt asked, toweling off his hair.

"Willy is apparently a gay ally," Dylan said seriously even though he looked like he was about to start laughing.

"You know, if you hadn't decided to stay and get sweet potato fries, we wouldn't have had to deal with that guy in the first place," Auston egged him on.

"You and Dylan ate all of them on the walk back to the bar anyway," Willy snapped at him. "I don't want to hear it. All my ideas are good ideas.”

Dylan winked at Auston and ran his fingers through his wet curls, causing Willy to shout as the water droplets got onto him. "They were good fries, what can I say."

Auston shook his head and stuffed his phone back into his bag while Dylan said goodbye to their teammates. The events of the night weren't an ideal way for the tension in the room to fade but he could tell that Dylan, along with the rest of the team, was relieved. No one had said anything remotely resembling a slur in about a week and Dylan finally was acting as though he wasn't about to dart out of any serious conversation.

"I'm impressed that you haven't asked more questions," Dylan admitted once they had gotten in the car. "You and Willy have been pretty great."

Auston shrugged. "Just trying to be supportive." And he was. There wasn't much more they could do to prove to Dylan that they supported Mitch. At least, not in the short-term.

"Some people are still trying to be my therapist," Dylan said darkly, confirming Auston's hypothesis that some of team leadership were taking him aside.

Auston snorted at that. Their team was collectively an overbearing helicopter parent. Dylan seemed like he was waiting for something so Auston collected his thoughts for a few moments. "I figured...if you did need something-- to rant or whatever-- it would be to your brothers? Or McDavid?" He looked over for confirmation. "If it needs saying that," he said, quiet, "I can also listen. Road roomie secrets and all that."

"Thanks." Dylan looked up at him with a smile. His curls had barely been dry for a few minutes and were already forming an unruly bird nest on his head. Auston wondered if Mitch gave him shit for that. "You know me and Mitch weren't kidding about a video game night, right?"

Auston had both hoped they were kidding about it. Or at least that Mitch or Dylan had forgotten about the issued invite. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle being in close quarters with Mitch. Sitting next to him on the couch. Maybe slinging an arm around his shoulders around a team win against Dylan and Willy.

God, maybe he could fake sick.

He couldn't.

Five hours later, Auston and Willy were standing outside Dylan and Mitch’s apartment after being buzzed up.

“I feel like we should have brought something besides chips. Maybe we should have gone to that bar to get sweet potato fries. Or even just the frozen ones," Willy rambled. Auston hadn't ever seen him this nervous. On one hand, he was glad he wasn't the only one but on the other hand, he hoped Willy's reasons were different from his. Not that he couldn't see Willy having a crush on Mitch. In Auston's mind, that'd be near impossible. Who wouldn't have a crush on Mitch?  
  
Auston shook his head. "We asked what to bring and Dylan said chips."

"But-"

“If we end up ordering pizza or whatever, we’ll just pay for it. No big deal." Auston made a show of breathing in and out. "We've got this."

“I feel like I haven’t been this nervous since draft day. Are you not worried? What if I say something shitty by accident or like-”

"You won't. I promise," Auston swore, even though that he knew that Willy knew that it wasn't really a promise either of them could make. "We won't fuck this up. It's for Dylan and the team."

"And Mitch," Willy added audibly what Auston had said to himself.

"Do you want to come in now or-" Dylan's voice said through the door. Both Auston and Willy jumped, with Auston cursing.

"You asshole," he told Dylan when his teammate opened the door, an easy smile on his face. Dylan seemed almost pleased they were taking it so seriously. Auston assumed Dylan had confidence in the both of them otherwise he wouldn't have stepped aside to let them into the apartment.

It was a small apartment, not exactly where someone would expect an NHL player to be living. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchen that only had a short divide wall between it and the living room. The living room, at least, looked standard for a young athlete. A huge television on the wall with a gaming system spreading a fire hazard of wires around it. Auston did a double take as he realized that the large lump on one of the couches was breathing.

Mitch was barely visible under the big blanket.

“We can come back another night...” Auston offered slowly. The nest shook a little and Auston assumed that was Mitch reacting negatively to his suggestion.

“He’s just being dramatic," Dylan told them from where he was sorting take out menus in the kitchen.

“Mid-terms got me, I’m a ghost now,” Mitch told them seriously, voice muffled through the blanket. Willy couldn't help himself and began to giggle. “All I do is haunt Dylan.”

"So the same thing you've been doing since you and Dylan were midgets?" Willy asked, huge smile on his face, nervousness near forgotten.

"Were midgets? Past tense?" Dylan teased, loudly enough so his brother could hear him through the fabric.

There was a huge gasp and Mitch tugged on the blanket so it came down and revealed his face. "I went through a growth spurt," Mitch hissed. His face was red from the heat and his hair was a fluffy mess, sticking in all directions and a little shiny with sweat. He looked amazing and Auston couldn't decide between running out of the apartment or going over to the couch to play with Mitch's hair. Both ideas were bad ones so he just stayed were he was until Dylan took the chips from him.

"Weirdo," Dylan said with no heat but still, he gave Auston a look like he knew something was up but he'd let it go for now.

Since Auston was both blessed and cursed, he was between Mitch and the armrest of the loveseat for the entirety of their Call of Duty sessions. Mitch was cursing in his ear and shoving his shoulder against Auston to throw off his game, which wasn't very good to begin with. Dylan and Willy were sniggering on the other couch. Even with Mitch being exhausted from mid-terms, he and Dylan kicked the asses of Willy and Auston in every round.

"This is so unfair."

"Team Strome is so unbeatable," Dylan bragged.

"He likes to forget that I never changed my last name," Mitch told Auston, rolling his eyes.

"Marner, right?" Auston remembered. It had been the name on the apartment bell down on the stoop of the building.

Mitch nodded but before he could say anything else, Willy jumped in, "I'm not worried about Team Strome. I've just got a useless first pick on my team and I seriously think teams should take the importance of video game bonding into account before drafting. Next time we're getting Fred or Brownie over here and Auston can just sit and watch."

"Asshole," Auston said lazily, stretching out his leg towards the other couch to kick Willy. In doing so, he leaned back into Mitch, who just snorted and pushed right back against him.

Mitch looked over at his brother. "You and Connor played with Brownie right?"

"Yeah, the other Connor," Dylan confirmed. "Don't tell him I said that."

"I'm absolutely going to tell him you said that," Willy told him seriously. "There's also another Connor- Carrick. He loves board games so if you want to get in on that. He's your guy."

Mitch ignored them. "Which one is Freddie?" He asked Auston but Willy answered anyway. Auston just smiled at Mitch instead. God, he needed to calm down.

"Goalie. Ginger. Tall," Willy rattled off. "I'll make you flashcards."

"That'd be helpful," Mitch laughed. "Freddie is the ginger. Willy is the one with the hair, and Auston the one on the bus stop billboard outside the bakery.”

Auston didn't let himself blush. He was on a lot of billboards in the city. It was part of hockey and it was never not going to be weird. The only weird part of it was a billboard with his face on it being Mitch's first impression of him.

"So you already knew me before I introduced myself at the bar?" He asked, almost dreading hearing the answer. Like he didn't feel like enough of an idiot already.

Mitch shook his head. “It doesn’t say your name. It just says 34 and hashtag StandWitness." He smirked. "Unless you’d like me to call you Stand.”

“Auston is fine. Or Matty," Auston offered, regretting it almost instantly.

Mitch rewrapped himself in a blanket, settling down against the armrest behind him. "Matty," he said sleepily. "Got it." Auston didn't hear the second part because his brain had froze once a tired and content Mitch had sleepily said his nickname.

Willy and Dylan argued about teams for a little longer, Mitch dozed off next to Auston. He was debating how to enter the conversation so he'd stop wishing Mitch was leaning against him instead of the couch when his phone buzzed.

_Davo: Welcome to the secret inner circle_   
_Auston: I'm telling Brownie that you guys call him the Other Connor_   
_Davo: You wouldn't dare_   
_Davo: Actually, he'd give Dylan a hard time but he wouldn't dare say anything to Mitch so that might be fun for you to watch._   
_Davo: How's Mitch?_   
_Auston: He kicked my ass at CoD and is sleeping through Dylan bickering with Nylander_   
_Davo: Classic Mitch. But how is he?_

Auston looked down at Mitch. He had curled himself against the armrest and was softly breathing, totally asleep. Auston turned back to his phone screen so he wouldn't stare at Mitch's long eyelashes delicately resting against his skin.

_Auston: I think okay. He talked about meeting a few other members of the team._   
_Davo: That's great!_   
_Auston: Not everyone but just Dylan-approved teammates_   
_Davo: Obvs_   
_Davo: Good work_

Auston hated the warmth that went through his body at Connor's approval but he couldn't help it. He liked being in the inner circle. He liked that Mitch trusted his brother enough to feel safe to the point where he could fall asleep next to Auston.

He really was so fucked.

===========

_Unknown Number: dyls said you need a bday cake?_   
_Unknown Number: this is mitch btw_   
_Auston: Yeah, my mom. She's coming here for her 45th birthday and I thought I'd ask. If that's all right._   
_Unknown Number: we totes do cake orders. come the bakery and we'll talk_

The next text was an address.

Auston tried not to be too excited. He hadn't seen Mitch in two weeks and the first thing he thought of to remedy that was asking Dylan if Mitch's place sold cakes for his mom's birthday. Dylan gave him such a "don't be an idiot" look that Auston wasn't sure if he meant just that 'of course, my brother can do anything' or just that Dylan saw right through him.

He didn't know what he expected but he knew he was at the right place when he saw his face on the bus stop just outside the corner bakery. He hadn't really been stopped on the way in and even the cashier didn't seem too interested in him.

"I'm here for Mitch? I mean, I have an appointment with him? Marner?" Auston's voice went up at the end, turning his statement into a question but he didn't have time to be too embarrassed by it because Mitch came bouncing out of the back door from the kitchen.

"Matty!" He said brightly. "Come on back and we'll talk cake." He grinned at Auston like they were sharing some secret joke. Auston thanked the cashier and followed Mitch back through the kitchens and into a small office that just had a desk and a three chairs. The only thing on the desk was a little cactus, a pad of paper, and a pencil.

"Minimalist," Auston commented. Mitch snorted at him and gestured to a seat.

"The boss here doesn't like things cluttered where customers can see it. Cause you know, having something super Spartan is a good way to assure them that our cakes will have personality."

"You'll have to change that when you get your place, right?" Auston asked and Mitch's face grew serious as he shut the door behind them.

"I'm not out here-"

"I wouldn't," Auston started, horrified, "I would never- I didn't mean-"

"I know." Mitch smiled at him. It wasn't the best Mitch smile that Auston had ever seen but he'd take it. "I know it's not what you meant at all but I just had to say it anyway."

Auston didn't know how to respond to that so instead, he just changed the subject. Mitch didn't seem to mind, he actually seemed a little more relaxed. "The woman up front? That cashier? She seemed really chill about..." Auston tried to think of a way to word it besides just gesturing to himself.

"I've got two brothers in the NHL and another one on his way. They're pretty used to the Stromes crashing in here at the end of the days to eat some of the staler pastries. Especially in the the summer."

"That's...a relief, honestly."

"It bodes well for when I want to open my own place." Mitch dragged a chair over next to Auston and plopped down in it. "It's good to know that people won't go starry-eyed each time I'll consult for athletes."

"Your place is going to be a bakery and like-- uhh nutritionist place?" Auston finished lamely but still was rewarded with Mitch's laugh.

"I love baking but I also love figuring out healthy stuff for players. Healthy stuff doesn't always make the best storefront though. That's where the everyday baking comes in," Mitch explained.

"Tempt them inside with the promise of sweets and then also have healthy stuff for them." Auston nodded approvingly. "A true trick."

"Well that too." Mitch began to draw on the paper in front of him. "I figure if I can have offices where I can meet with players and work through their needs and then a place for a storefront all in one then it'll just be one big shop." He wasn't sketching out a fancy birthday cake but instead, a shop. "I don't need a storefront, I mean, I don't have one now and I'm still doing well with selling to players but I like storefronts. I already have it in my head about how I'm going to decorate for holidays and special occasions." Mitch's tiny storefront didn't have a name written on the penciled glass window but it did have little bats hanging from the top and tiny pumpkins along the sill. Auston didn't bother reminding Mitch that it was almost springtime.

"You could find a place where you could live above it too." Auston added, pointing to the empty space on the paper above the shorefront. "Roll out of bed and not be late work."

Mitch grinned and started sketching around Auston's finger. "Depends on the area. I'm probably not getting rid of Dylan anytime soon so we'd need either a big apartment on top of a building or one with more stories that could hold an apartment for each of us." He drew the two stories with a little figure in one of the windows.

"It wasn't until I saw you guys living together that I started really missing living with my sisters everyday," Auston admitted. "I played in Switzerland for a year and hockey took me everywhere but..."

"Are they thinking about school in Toronto? Never say never." Mitch asked, curiously. He tore off the top sheet and set it aside. He wrote Matthews Order #2016-489 on the top. "What kind of flowers does your mom like?"

"Probably not but either way, I don't think we'd be able to make it work like you two do." Auston saw Mitch waiting for him and quickly added, "Lilies, I think? Those are the ones with the longer petals, right? They're like- orange? She likes the orange ones."

Mitch laughed at that. "Yeah, we can do orange lilies. Don't get me wrong, Dylan and I definitely had some issues in the beginning. Dylan had a hard time getting used to the fact that I had a bedtime."

"I believe that," Auston said and when Mitch's expression turned quizzical, he continued, "Dylan is my road roomie. I've seen how he paces."

"Really? He does that everywhere?" Mitch asked, eager for dirt on his brother and Auston was helpless to resist.

"No no, just after the games," Auston explained and he watched Mitch cover his cake drawing with tiny sketches of lilies and other smaller flowers cascading down the sides. "He just gets so keyed up."

"I love making sugar lilies," Mitch confided. "The petals are so long and tricky to nail but man, they're fun. And yeah, I was going to say- he's so serious about nap time for his own sleep but yeah, he gets uhh, a little hyper up after games." Mitch stopped and erased a few of the bigger flowers.

"Is that why he cools down longer than everyone sometimes?" Auston realized.

Mitch nodded and started sketching again. "You said just two tiers, right? We can do that. Small and cute but still tasteful. Yeah, Dylan can't help himself and if he starts pacing around the apartment or gets too hyper, I'll probably wake up. Not at all the time but some of the time." He turned the pad of paper towards Auston. "What do you think? We'll do some orange with whites and creams so it's soft."

Auston couldn't look away from Mitch when he told him, "She going to love it." Mitch beamed at him, pleased and Auston just followed him out of the office on a tour of the bakery and the kitchens. Mitch content to just ramble on at Auston about his job and his plans while Auston was perfectly happy to just listen to Mitch's voice.

Ema did love the cake. Mitch didn't deliver it, which Auston couldn't help but be disappointed about but Mitch had left a little happy birthday note which Ema read with a raised eyebrow towards her son.

He couldn't help it.

He just broke.

Auston told her all about how Mitch was Dylan's brother and he worked at a bakery. How Mitch used to play hockey but now was becoming a nutritionist and was so smart. Even without talking about sexuality, Auston knew he was reaching the point of talking too much about his teammate's brother but this was his mom and he knew that she already knew. Auston felt himself slowing down, telling her about Mitch's sketches for his own bakery.

"I could give you his number if you wanted anything else from the bakery while you're here. Or just...the address, I guess," he ended lamely, with a sigh. He couldn't ignore all the questions in his mom's eyes.

"Auston," she said quietly.

"Mami, please," he pleaded back, just as quiet.

"All right, but have another piece of cake then." He obeyed his mom, letting her put another small piece of the cake on his plate and pretending it tasted just as good as it had ten minutes ago.

===========

_Mitch: i forgot how weird goalies are_   
_Auston: Freddie?_   
_Mitch: yea_   
_Mitch: nice but yah know_   
_Auston: Intense_   
_Mitch: zach was nice. i think he wants to write a book about me_   
_Auston: I'd read it_   
_Mitch: thanks bro_

===========

_Snapchat from Mitch Marner:_ [image: completely black with a caption that reads "Already in bed. Busy day. Didn't want to ruin the snap streak."]

_Snapchat from Mitch Marner:_ [image: completely black with a caption that reads "Is it snap streak or SnapStreak?"]

===========

Mo threw a ball of wadded up stick tape at Dylan. “Your best friend and your brother are on a team together and you’re way too smiley about it.” Dylan caught it easily and threw it back.

“Yeah but if I was going to convince Mitchy to go to a hockey game, it’d be one where all three of us were playing at once," he pointed out. Mo just looked so happy that Dylan brought up Mitch unprompted that he let the tape ball hit his chest and stay there.

Willy nudged Auston in the ribs. "Do you think he'll wear a Nylander jersey?" he said loud enough for the rest of their teammates to hear.

Luckily, before Auston could even think about forming a response to that, Matt took offense. "Wait what- no, Strome is my rookie-- his brother can wear a Martin jersey."

"Do they even sell those?" Someone called from the other side of the locker room.

Auston finally came up with a response that wasn't saying that Mitch should wear a Matthews jersey. He was pretty proud of himself. "He's probably going to spite his brothers and wear a McDavid jersey," he said, which was met with boos from either side of him.

"Connor did buy him an Edmonton jersey," Dylan told them. "Mitch told him to sign it so he could sell it."

"Vicious." Martin laughed. "I love it."

"I think I love him," Willy said seriously. "Does he want a Nylander jersey?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Dylan asked sweetly.

"Maybe Carrick has one of those dice with all the sides so he can roll to decide whose jersey."

"We're all missing the important point here." Mo waited until most of the eyes in the locker room were on him. "Your brother and best friend are coming to Toronto..." Mo leaned in "Any tips on shutting them down?”

Dylan gave them an evil smile. “Oh, I got this—“

===========

_Auston: There is a bet going on about whose jersey you're going to wear_   
_Mitch: sorry i already told dyls which one and he's splitting the cut with me_   
_Auston: Wow. I see how it is_   
_Mitch: too slow matty_

===========

Connor McDavid has Mitch on his back. For the most part, Mitch seemed to be enjoying the piggyback. He was just taking in the lay of the land of what was the back hallways of the ACC while Connor was talking to Dylan. For a man whose team just lost by two goals, Connor didn't seem too bothered by it.

“Davo, good to see you again. You too, Mitchy.” Auston tried not to smile too big and by the looks of it, so did Mitch. They both failed. "Dylan was right, you know. He said that if you got to see the three of them in one game, you'd come."

"It's a great deal!" Mitch said warmly, tightening his arms around Connor's neck. Connor just patted his clasped hands. "Three for one!" Now that Auston was closer, he could tell Mitch wasn’t as comfortable as he had seen him in the past. His eyes kept darting between either end of the hallways and the doors in-between. He looked...small in his Strome Maple Leaf's jersey. Auston was willing to bet it was a game-worn jersey. Maybe that’s why Connor had grabbed him, thinking no one would bother Hockey Jesus and his friends— at least, not on backstage territory.

"Does that mean that the Leafs or the Oilers are going to have to trade for Matty?" Dylan asked, all of them now firmly playing the game of Distract Mitch™.

"Four for one." Mitch said dreamily. "Yes, please. That'd make my life so much easier." Connor bounced him a few times making Mitch squeeze his arms around him. "Hey now, whoa. Bumpy ride."

"You mean you'd go to Matt's games even though it's just him?" Dylan put his hand on his chest as though it was the worst offense in the world.

"It'd be his first NHL game, Dyls. And his other brothers will be too busy to get there," Mitch snarked.

Connor added, "There's a good chance one of his brothers will be playing against him, bud."

"We never play Philly that early in the season," Dylan shook his head. "It'd be convenient though. Work on that," he told Connor, whose face turned a little red.

"I don't have control over the schedule and you know that," Connor insisted, embarrassed.

Auston thought about it before remembering, "The Oilers had two days before and after Christmas this year. Bullshit you don't control it."

"Santa is from Edmonton," Connor said seriously and adjusted his grip on Mitch's thighs as Mitch began to giggle uncontrollably.

"I'll watch Little Matt's game and then you guys the next time you all play together," Mitch promised and then immediately got bounced by Connor.

"Next time?" Connor asked excitedly. He spun them both around and had Mitch holding on for dear life. "Did you just say next time?"

"Sure, you come back to the Leafs in a year, right?" Mitch said sweetly.

"You know, you could fly out to Edmonton," Connor grumbled, "No one is using my kitchen."

"Shocked about that, Davo. I really am."

"It'd save me some overnight postage," Connor tried hopefully.

Mitch unhooked his arms for a few seconds so he could flick Connor's ear. "A plane ticket is more than all the overnight postage I used for you last year, I'm pretty sure." He looked around again and asked, a little nervously, "Where's Ryan?"

"I'm not sure, want me to go find him?" Connor offered. Mitch thought about it for a minute but shook his head. "I just want to go, I think," he said, voice low. More people were entering the hallways now as the building settled for the night. 

"His loss for not moving fast enough," Connor said firmly. He let his arms drop to his sides and Mitch slid down to the floor. He didn't seem too happy about being back on the ground. He squeezed himself beside Connor and Dylan came in on the other side to block him in. Auston moved forward at the same time as Dylan and Connor so they all formed a barrier around Mitch.

Dylan gave him a silent nod but Connor brought attention to it.

"Matty gets it," Connor said approvingly.  
  
"I told you," Dylan said, smug look on his face.

Mitch just gave them a tired smile. "The exit, guys. Where is it? I told Mom and Dad I'd meet them at the car."

For a minute, Connor looked like he wanted to argue but instead said, "I'll walk you out and I'll meet you guys at the bar?"

Dylan nodded. "Aus is coming too."

"I am?" Auston asked.

"You are," Dylan gave him no room for argument.

It wasn't until Ryan Strome had gone back to his hotel and Dyls had gone back to his apartment that Auston realized it might have been a trap. It was late and he and Davo had a quiet booth to themselves in the back of the bar. Connor gave him little warning before switching from a seat to Auston's bench against the wall.

“So, what are your intentions with Mitch?” Auston froze and had to remind himself to take a breath. Connor moved closer, his body language completely carefree and the opposite of Auston's. "You're fine, man. I just- I saw you watching him and Dylan is so focused on making sure Mitch is okay that he’s not really paying attention to anything else.”

"I'm not sure that's true," Auston said, thinking back to Dylan calling him a weirdo when he came over for game night.

"Answer the question anyway," Connor said stonily.

“Connor— Davo, we played on the same team before.” Auston said defensively, not even bothering to say he didn’t have intentions at all.

“I played on the same team with a lot of people,” Connor said darkly. Auston could feel the blood draining out of his face.

"Right okay. Right," he said, shocked. "That's totally fair." Connor was still waiting. "I don't. I'm not going to- I can't," he stressed.

Connor took pity on him, "Yeah, I kind of figured." He waited a few seconds before continuing, "You know, Dylan also offered..I could like- he said that I could explain stuff to you, if you wanted."

"Explain what?" Auston looked up, shoulders still looked, worried Connor was going to pursue his line questioning.

"How Dylan ended up with another brother," Connor said softly.

"Oh well, he told me- that Mitch's parents didn't...they didn't want a gay son," Auston said, angry and quiet. "And that the Stromes took him in."

Connor gave him a sad smile like he had been in Auston's shoes before, felt that anger. "There's a lot more to the story. Context, I mean. Mitch isn't about to talk about it and sometimes Dylan get so angry, he can't even think about it."

"Dylan said it was okay? You don't have to-- it's not- I don't need to know. This is who they are now. I don't-Davo," Auston pleaded, not really knowing what he was asking for.

"Wow, that's the most words I heard you in a row."

"Shut up," Auston grumbled. Connor scooted down further in the booth and knocked their shoulders together.

"You know that Dylan and I were Otters, right?"

Auston nodded but he also mentally finished "for life." He didn't dare say it out loud. It would have given Connor too much joy.

"Believe it or not, Mitchy and Dylan hated one another."

Auston looked up, surprised. "I know, trust me," Connor told him. "Seeing them now, it's wild to think of how they used to taunt and trip one another. Since they were like eight or nine apparently. I wasn't there for those early years but Ryan tells it like he's a proud dad. They were always getting under one another's skins but eventually when they were twelve- maybe thirteen?- they were put together for like- a summer tournament and god help us all."

"Good?"

"Amazing. Like disgustingly good. It makes me think about where Mitch would been have drafted if..." Connor stopped himself. "I try not to think about it. It's good that he didn't. He's so much happier now but...I'm still angry that it got taken away from him, I guess."

"His parents?" Auston asked quietly.

"Yeah, he and Dylan started texting a lot after that game. Mitch was over at the Stromes all the time in the summer. They were drafted to different OHL teams but we had text messaging so you know-- it didn't really matter. Then I got to know them both and then..."

"Domi."

"Domi," Connor said darkly. "I don't think we really knew what was going on. Dylan was in the dark and he was...kind of going a little wild. It's like-- he knew something was wrong but he didn't know what it was. Little Matt was the same way."

Auston looked up. "Strome?"

"Yeah, Matt was young then. Or at least-- younger. He kept bugging Dylan about Mitch. I don't know. It was like he knew something was up."

Auston felt dread coming over him. He only knew what Dylan had told the team. The bare details. He wasn't sure he could handle hearing more. Not without having something to punch. He was pretty sure Connor wasn't going to pause long enough to give him that option. If Auston was being honest, Connor didn't look too good either. He was slowing ripping a napkin to shreds in front of him, piece by piece.

"I can't tell you a ton of specifics mostly because I don't know them but all because you look like you're going to combust." Auston winced. Connor wasn't wrong. "But I can tell you that Dylan got a phone call from someone on the Knights about Mitch being hurt even though there hadn't been a game that night. The next thing I knew, Dylan and I were driving up from Erie to London on our spring break to move all of Mitch's stuff from London and then Dylan's parents went from Thornhill to bring his stuff to Mississauga."

"That fast?"

"The Domi stuff had apparently been happening for a while but then it got to the point where the coach's couldn't ignore." Auston didn't ask but Connor still answered. "Broken wrist."

"Fuck," Auston said angrily. He forced himself to uncurl his fists but that only let him dig his fingernails into his thighs.

"Matt was- I guess thirteen or fourteen at the time. He was still living with the Stromes- he hadn't been drafted yet or anything so believe it or not, he's the most protective of Mitch." Connor tried to joke but it fell flat.

"I find that hard to believe after seeing Dylan in action," Auston said, remembering the first and then second time in the locker room.

"Dylan, Mitch, and I did a lot of Skyping but Matt lived with him, you know? He saw how lost Mitch was and how he just...didn't want to do anything. He finished high school online and basically watched Matt for the Stromes until the official disownment came through.

I never knew how they found out. I guess they went up there to find out about his wrist and found out the whole story from someone and Mitch didn't deny being gay. Hockey, his family, all in 24 hours." Connor looked over at Auston. "Are you okay?"

"No." Auston didn't know what to say.

"He's okay now," Connor reminded him quietly, passing him a napkin to rip apart. Auston grabbed it and held onto it like a lifeline.

"He should have been okay then. He should have been safe then." Auston tried not to raise his voice. He wanted nothing more than to be out of this booth, restaurant.

"I know," Connor agreed, trying to sooth him. "But he's safe now. The Stromes got custody almost immediately which thank god, otherwise he would have gone into the system which I don't think he or the Stromes would have done well with. Little Matt was afraid he'd disappear. Mitch was staying in Ryan's old room and Matt would climb into bed with him so he'd know he was still there.

The Stromes...man," Connor shook his head, "they didn't even hesitate. I don't think they ever got along with Mitch's parents and they had known them for years. They heard what had happened and called our billets and we all drove up to London. It was...the longest time I've ever heard Mitch go without talking. He was touching one of us at all times though. Like he didn't want to let go. I still don't know what his parents said to him but Dylan might. I don't think I want to know." Auston didn't want to know either. He could guess though. He was sure Connor could guess too.

"I do know that the Stromes talked to each of the brothers individually before adopting Mitch. Even Ryan even though he wasn't even living there anymore. Dylan was so grateful. He skated twice into the glass at practice-- he just couldn't believe it. Matt was...mostly worried that the Marners would try to take him back but they never tried. I don't think Mitch has seen them since but Dylan has. He and Ryan saw them though. Just out at the mall one day when they were trying to get Dylan fitted for his draft suit. I didn't hear it from Dylan but apparently Ryan had to physically hold him back."

“I can’t say I blame him,” Auston said quietly. He wondered if he had ever run into the Marners in the city. He hoped he hadn't.

"We all talked constantly but Dylan and Mitch the most. When Dylan was drafted by the Leafs, Mitch had already gotten a part-time job at bakery was figuring out online classes. I think...the Stromes offered to keep paying if Mitch wanted to go back to hockey. I actually think Ryan was the one who offered the money because he knew Mitch wouldn't take it from his parents but he just couldn't anymore. The first game he went to was the Memorial Cup game two years ago but that was just for me and Dyls and..." Connor looked guilty. "He didn't tell us but I'm pretty sure he got sick afterwards." Auston blanched at that.

"We weren't playing against the Knights or anything. We wouldn't have asked him to come then. We didn't even ask him to come to the game he went to but I think it was just the OHL in general. This is the second time he's been to an NHL game and so far so good."

“Dylan’s first game?” Auston guessed.

Connor nodded. “Of course.” He said with a smile. "I don't think he would have missed that. They did it just like they did this game. A rented out box with Mr. and Mrs. Strome. and a few other family members.

"He looked okay tonight. Not great but, better than I expected, I guess." Auston admitted. "I was nervous for him."

"He is sort of anchored here now, you know?"

"I'm glad Dylan got drafted here," Auston said quietly. "Imagining one without the other is just-"

"Me too." Connor grinned helplessly. "A god damn miracle. They decided they wanted to live together but since Mitch is still a student..."

"That's why they have like- a little apartment." Auston realized. "I was wondering about that."

"Yeah but honestly, Dylan doesn't care. He just wanted to live with Mitch. I think he felt like he missed out during the years that Matt and the Stromes got to live with him. I think Mitch agreed they could move into something a little bigger or at least with better security next season so I can't wait to see how those real estate trips go. Mitch is making a lot of money off of his traybakes now that he's selling them to professional athletes but I think once he's a certified nutritionist and can start an official business, it's really going to take off. His storefront is going to be completely wild, for sure."

"Yeah," Auston couldn't help himself from smiling. "He showed me. He drew it out for me when I went to order my mom's birthday cake. He's already excited to decorate it."

Connor leaned back in the booth. Embarrassed by the napkin pieces in front of him, he made sure no one was watching as he swept them off the table and onto the floor. "He's going to be amazing. He already is but still."

"I...want to go hug both of them now." Auston admitted, embarrassed.

"They do love hugs. Mitch more than Dylan but he can be coerced into cuddling too." Connor said sneakily. Auston had seen the twitter photos from when they were in the OHL. He didn't think Dylan needed all that much convincing.

Auston shook his head. "What?" Connor asked.

"Nothing just-" Auston shrugged. "I'm just glad he has that now with the Stromes, I guess."

"And you?" Connor's question was so soft and Auston knew he wasn't obligated to answer. Connor was fishing, yes, but he'd pack up his rod and head to shore without any other questions. But Auston couldn't let that happen. He didn't want to do that. Connor had told him that he was in the inner circle and Auston, for many reasons, didn't want to leave.

"Mitch doesn't like hockey players,” Auston said finally. He was only marginally surprised when he didn't spontaneously combust after admitting it. His heart was racing but he was a hockey player. With any luck, his heart could handle all of this.

"He likes me and his brothers."

"I'm not you or his brothers."

Connor leaned forward. "He gives you traybakes."

"He gives Sidney Crosby traybakes." Auston shook his head.

"Yeah but he charges Sid a ridiculous amount of money for them-- including the overnight shipping."

Auston shook his head. "I don't want to be something in his life that's...an issue. Almost everything I have is hockey right now. He deserves a guy who like- I don't know. A sweet accountant who could do the taxes for his future bakery while Mitch is trying to chase their dog out of the kitchen."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "They've got a dog?"

Auston didn't answer. Of course he had already pictured himself living that life with Mitch. Even if it was with Dylan in the same apartment too. Maybe a dog for when they went on the road so Mitch wasn't too lonely by himself. Auston wasn't sure what kind of dog. Whatever kind Mitch wanted. Maybe they'd move into that three story building with the bakery on the bottom. Maybe it would have a little yard in the back so Mitch wouldn't have to try to experiment with growing vegetables on the dirty roof of his and Dylan's building.

"I'm scared," Auston's voice cracked and Connor moved closer, letting his shoulder rest against Auston's. If Connor wasn't that close, he wouldn't have heard the next part. "I'm scared for the same reasons he was scared."

Auston kept his eyes on the table so he wouldn't see the sympathy and pity on Connor's face. "I respect your reasons," Connor said quietly, "but I'll also say that Mitch is his own person and he's grown a lot in four years. He wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do so you have to respect that too."

"Got it," Auston breathed, just to agree with Connor. There was no way it was that easy.

"Good talk."

"Was that the whole point of this?" Auston let out a tired laugh.

"Nah. Dylan really did just wanted me to give you more context. But I figured...you look like you want to book a midnight gym session to ruin a punching bag. It had to be more." Connor clapped his hand on Auston's shoulder. He offered it to him to help him out of the booth and used it to hug Auston into a hug. "I'm telling Dyls you need a hug tomorrow morning. Non-negotiable. I mean, you're getting another one once we leave but-"

"This whole family just loves hugs, huh?" Auston could tell by Connor's beam that he was excited to be included in Auston's broad definition of family.

"Just wait til you meet Little Matt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i obvs changed the timeline a little bit in connor's re-telling. i want the stromes to be friendly with mitch before the age where he and dylan actually lit up that real-life tournament


	4. Chapter 4

Auston got his Dylan hug the next morning. It was over the center console of Dylan's car and Auston almost knocked over his coffee but it still happened and Austin was grateful for it.

"How much of your workout today is going to be just against the punching bag?" Dylan tried to joke. It didn’t quite fall flat but just about.

"As much as the trainers let me," Auston grumbled, facing forward. “I'll run suicides just for myself the whole time if that's the case."

"Oh, bud. I've been there." Dylan settled back into his seat, tapping their coffee to-go cups to make sure they were secure the holders.

After a few minutes of the drive, Auston spoke up again, ”Thank you though. For letting Connor tell me." It felt weird thanking Dylan but but Auston felt like he needed to. It wasn't Dylan's fault that Auston had ended up trapped in a nightmare a few hours after leaving Connor.

He had never seen Mitch truly upset but that hadn't stopped his subconscious from imagining all the ways. Mitch alone and curled into a ball in the corner of an empty OHL locker room. Mitch staring blankly out while Dylan and his brothers try to get him up off of the couch. Auston shook his head. He couldn't start thinking about the dreams again.

"I wanted to give you more context,” Dylan said quietly, not letting Auston hide in his brain. “We like you, you know? You make an effort. You're a good friend.”

"I try." Auston didn’t feel like he was making an effort. He felt like a disaster and a fraud. He wasn’t sure what else he could do. He was still playing hockey while Mitch got it taken away.

"If I tried to tell you all about it myself, I probably also would have punched something.” Dylan shrugged. He didn’t seem too concerned about it. “Thanks for being okay with it coming from Connor."

"I'm glad you let him tell me anything at all," Auston said, his tone honest. If listening and learning was part of the trust they put in him, he'd glad take it, screw the nightmares. “You didn't have to do that.”

"You didn't google the team did you?" Dylan asked suddenly.

Auston looked over at him, confused, “The team?”

“The Knights roster,” Dylan clarified. "From when Mitch was on it."

"No god.” Auston shook his head. “You said he doesn’t want to think about it right?”

“Yeah,” Dylan confirmed.

Auston shrugged and said firmly, "It's about Mitch, you know? Not them. They can go fuck themselves."

Dylan seemed pretty pleased with Auston’s answer and Auston felt like he had cleared some impressive invisible hurdle.

It really hadn’t occurred to him to look up the Knight’s roster from that season. More than once he thought about texting Dvo but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t sure if he was scared about the answer or just nervous to have the topic brought up in general. It wasn’t his topic to bring up.

"You'll let me know if you have any more issues with other players thought right?” Auston asked.” We don't have to tell the rest of the team but you shouldn't have to go through that alone."

Dylan didn’t answer right away. Auston wanted to hug him again. He had just been shouldering the locker room atmosphere by himself but Auston could help with this now. “Thanks man,” Dylan said finally, quietly. “You're going to make a good captain one day."

"Stromer..." he warned.

"There's not a captain jinx, Aus. We’ve been through this.”

"You don't know that,” Auston near whined. Dylan’s laugh finally broke the fragile mood of the car.

“Dude, we’re totally hugging again once we get out of the car.”

“Fine with me.” Auston certainly wasn’t going to say no.

"We’ll just say it’s early birthday hugs for me." Auston hated that Dylan was used to thinking ahead. He kind of hated Toronto media. Or just hockey media in general. Or all media.

"That classic tradition," Auston said dryly as he pulled away.

Dylan lowered his voice and mocked, "Just one bro giving another bro early birthday hugs." He looked over at Auston and weighted his next sentence carefully before saying, "Just wait til Mitch gives you hugs."

"Is- is it his birthday soon?" Auston stumbled over his words.

"Oh man, you've got another two months. I'm not helping you buy a gift though," Dylan teased. Auston made a mental note to text Connor. Surely Davo would help him.

===========

If Auston thought that Dylan gave a lot of hugs sober, it was nothing compared to what he doled out while drunk and happy with the team. It was hard to tell who was more excited about the development, Mo or Dylan. Mo might have just been happy that Dylan seemed pleased to hang out with the team unguarded.

Auston chalked it up to a combination of things: three wins in a row, Dylan not worrying about discussing his brother in front of the team, and the copious amount of shots Matt Martin kept passing his rookie.

He didn't think much of it until Dylan insisted on going home at the end of the night. Before Auston could search through Dylan's pockets to look for his keys, the door to the flat swung open. Dylan, who had been leaning on the door, nearly fell into the entryway but Auston grabbed him quickly and looked up to see Mitch blinking at them.

“I brought you a present?" Auston tried.

“And me not even being the brother with the birthday.” Mitch’s expression at least, looked fond. “I definitely didn’t ask for this.” He looked sleepy and comfortable. His flannel sleep pants seemed a little too long for him and he was wearing a worn out Oilers t-shirt. Auston could see the peeling 97 on the sleeve. Not for the first, third, or even seventh time, Auston thought that he was fucked.

“Mitchy! We’re being quiet!” Dylan said in a loud whisper. “You’re sleeping!”

“I tried to get him to stay at my flat,” Auston apologized. “He really wanted to come back here.”

“It’s all right. I wasn’t sleeping, just writing a paper. I don’t have an early shift. It’s almost like I knew this would happen.” Mitch stepped aside and Auston shuffled in, Dylan still hanging off of one shoulder. "You guys spend enough time on the road. He likes being in his own bed."

“Mitchy,” Dylan said loudly again. He pouted at his brother or at least, at the phone that Mitch was holding up in front of him while smirking.

“I’m snapchatting this for Ryan and Matty.”

“Nooooooo. Auston, help," Dylan whined pathetically. Auston just shrugged and laughed, leaning Dylan against the back of the couch, to even more pouting.

“His house, his rules.”

“Bad captain.”

Mitch looked up at that. He stopped the recording and showed Auston that he was deleting it instead of sending it. Auston knew his expression was probably pathetically grateful.

“I’m not. They haven’t—“ He shook his head. Dylan muttered to himself and took two very unsteady steps towards the bathroom. Both Mitch and Auston braced themselves, ready to dive in to catch him if he fell to the floor but luckily, Dylan slowly and safely made it to the bathroom.

"Door open," Mitch called to him. "I don't want you falling asleep on the ground and blocking the door."

"M' not gonna drown, Mitchy. Just peeing," drunk Dylan insisted. He left the door open a few inches anyway, Auston noticed.

Once he noticed that, he began to notice everything else. How close Mitch was standing to him. The sound of Dylan running the water in the bathroom. It was the only noise in the whole apartment. He wasn't even sure that he and Mitch were breathing.

“You’ll be a good captain," Mitch offered quietly.

Auston noticed his use of the future tense. “Thanks. That...means a lot," he said honestly. "They really haven't said anything yet though."

"Well, you'll be ready for it when they do." Mitch's voice was firm, no room for arguments. Auston had heard it before from other people, his parents, Dylan, and he knew he would be ready. But hearing it from Mitch just felt...different. Like if Mitch believed Auston could be an astronaut, he'd sign up to be launched into space tomorrow.

He caught himself against the back of the couch, same as Dylan had, though with much less alcohol. "Thanks," he said again, still quiet.

He looked up at Mitch, who hadn't moved but seemed altogether closer. Auston wanted to wrap him in a hug, put another blanket around him and his Oilers t-shirt, the night still part of a chilly Toronto in March. He wondered if he left a Leafs shirt around the apartment, it would also end up as one of Mitch's sleep shirts. It was all he could think about.

"Auston?" Mitch asked gently. "Are you okay to get home? Did you want to stay on the couch?"

Auston shook his head and stood up straight almost immediately. "I'm fine. I'm--" he stopped and made himself smile at Mitch. "Just tired is all. The car is still waiting downstairs."

"All right," Mitch said, there was still a fond smile on his face but now Auston could see the concern. "I'll see you soon."

Auston let himself look Mitch in the eye one last time before saying, "Good night, Mitch." and walking out the door.

===========

"I love you," Dylan told Mitch through a mouthful of eggs and potatoes. "You're my favorite."

"I can't even imagine how many times you said that to your teammates last night," Mitch laughed. "You were so out of it when you came home."

Dylan groaned. He was leaning against their kitchen island, in front of a large plate of greasy breakfast foods. Mitch had hoisted himself up on the countertop and was sitting cross-legged, watching his brother eat too many eggs.

"Thank you for not letting me sleep on the bathroom floor," Dylan said seriously. "I remember arguing about it and making some very compelling points but you stood your ground with Drunk Dylan and I appreciate that."

Mitch snorted, shoveling more roasted potatoes on Dylan's plate. "I have some experience with drunk Dylan. If you had given me any trouble, I would have called Auston back to have him just carry you to bed."

"I gotta thank him for getting me home." Dylan reached for his phone. Mitch used the end of the spatula to push it towards him. "He could have crashed on the couch."

"I offered but he..." Mitch trailed off. He couldn't get Auston's gaze from last night out of his head. Like Mitch was the answer to all his problems. Like he just wanted to scoop Mitch up and run.

"He what?" Dylan sighed, like he had been waiting for his conversation. Mitch ignored some of the light redness blooming over the tops of his cheeks, heating his face. He looked away from Dylan even though he knew it was visible regardless.

"Have you noticed that Auston..."

"Has literal heart eyes whenever he's in sight of you?" Dylan finished, smirk on his face.

Mitch punished Dylan by spearing two of his potatoes at once and plopping them into his own mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he said, "I was going to say was being weird--"

"That's basically the same thing that I said."

"Dyls," Mitch protested. Dylan held up his hands, somehow each with a fork in them.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to do but he does kind of seem...gone for you.”

"I kind of figured that out, thanks." Mitch was quiet for a minute but Dylan could tell he was thinking. He pushed himself away from their kitchen island and went to put on the kettle, grabbing Mitch's favorite tea out of the cabinet. "I think he's more worried than I am." Mitch said quietly from Dylan.

"Oh-- he's terrified." Dylan agreed. He brought the mug over and handed it to his brother. Mitch curled his hands around the mug and leaned forward into Dylan, putting his head on his shoulder.

"What? He talked to you about it?"

"Nah," Dylan shook his head. "He talked to Connor about it. Or-- Connor talked to him. He was adamant that you didn't like hockey players and he didn't want to mess up your life."

"So we're both scared," Mitch hummed.

Dylan rubbed his knuckles over Mitch's knotty hair. "You...could be scared together," he suggested, slow and quiet.

Mitch's response was even quieter and said directly into Dylan's shoulder. "I think...I'd like to be."

"Connor says he wants the two of you to get a dog."

Mitch picked his head up off of Dylan's shoulder. "What?"

"Yeah, apparently he spouted off some shit about how you deserved a nice boy who would go walk your dog with you," Dylan teased.

"I wonder what kind of dog it was..." Mitch sipped his tea. He could see it. His shop on the bottom floor of a building, Dylan on the third floor, and Auston and Mitch and their dog on the second floor. A sweet mutt they recused who padded along after Mitch in the office sections of the storefront while Auston let Mitch feed him little bits of bakes he was experimenting with.

"You're as bad as one another," Dylan chuckled, knocking Mitch out of his daydream.

"He's sweet. You're the one who told me he was sweet in the first place," Mitch reminded him, setting the tea down next to him on the kitchen island. He stretched out his legs in front of him.

"I just said he never yelled a slur in the locker room."

"The bar isn't that low. He sent the text too."

"And tried to keep you hidden at the bar."

"And doesn't think he's good enough for me," Mitch sighed.

"He's a good dude," Dylan admitted. "And you're both adults. So if you guys are doing this, then I'm going to help in any way I can."

"You going to pick up condoms for us?" Mitch asked sweetly. Dylan groaned loudly and pressed his face into his arms, resting on the kitchen counter.

"I DID NOTHING TO DESERVE THIS!" came the muffled yell. "I MEANT RUN INTERFERENCE." Mitch cackled and reached over, poking the back of Dylan's head before he started playing with his curls.

"I know. You're sweet too."

"Damn right," Dylan said, his face still hiding in his arms. Eventually he peeked up out of them. "So now what?"

Mitch shrugged. "We'll see."

===========

There were a lot of things about the playoffs that Auston had expected and then others that he didn't at all. He certainly didn't expect their nutritionists to hold meetings with them at least twice a week to monitor their carb and protein intake. He wondered if the rest of the NHL was like this or if the Leafs were just particularly micro-managing.

"And please remember, if any of you are working with personal nutritionists, I'll ask that you give them our contact information so we can collaborate with them for your diets as we head into the playoffs," Jerry, their head nutritionist reminded them as he dismissed the team for the morning.

Not everyone, but more than a few teammates looked towards Dylan. He rolled his eyes. "I'll catch up with you after I shower, Jerry."

"Am I missing something?" He asked, sorting through the lists of approved food for each player.

"He'll fill you in. It's no big. Dylan's guy is trained,” Mo assured him. “Crosby buys from him and everything.” Jerry raised an eyebrow at that. Everyone knew Sidney Crosby was notoriously picky about his foods year-round, not just during the playoffs

"Training. He's still in school. Technically," Dylan corrected him.

"I eat his stuff too," Auston offered up. "He gave me a list a while ago though. I have it somewhere."

"Auston gets treats?"

"Auston is a guinea pig," Dylan said smoothly before Auston could panic about special treatment from Mitch. He kept his eyes on his phone, scrolling for the email Mitch had sent him a few weeks prior. It was a list of everything he normally gave Auston, complete with a smiley face in the email signature. He still hadn't let Auston pay for any of the baked goods but if Auston was at the grocery store, he could occasionally get Mitch to let him pick up a few bulk ingredients.

He didn't think anything of it until he was in Dylan and Mitch's apartment a few days later.

"So I got an email from the Leafs nutritionist," Mitch started. Dylan and Auston looked up immediately from the television screen. Both their characters were shot immediately.

"I'm so sorry," Auston said horrified. "I didn't even-- they asked who else I was working with for food and--"

"I did the same thing," Dylan said miserably. "I didn't even think to give you a heads up that I had talked to them about you."

"Probably because you guys have been running ragged for a week," Mitch said gently. "I'm not mad at either of you. I just wanted to know how it happened." Not that it helped either of the guys in front of him who both looked as though they wanted to beat themselves up.

"They want us to be more strict about what we eat during the playoffs."

"I gave them the list you gave me," Auston said, trying not to berate himself. Judging by the expression on Mitch's face, he wasn't doing a good job of hiding his frustration. "That's where they must have gotten your information. Mitch, I'm so--"

"Well, as it turns out, you did me a favor," Mitch said suddenly, cutting off his apology. Dylan squinted suspiciously, waiting for Mitch to explain himself. "I do need to shadow someone as part of my next semester's professional course but I'm hoping I can do it...not in the ACC. Maybe I can shadow them...digitally."

Dylan's phone began to ring. He mouthed 'Matty' at Mitch and Auston and went into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm sorry," Auston said a third time, just as miserable. "Maybe they know someone in a different sport if you'd rather that?"

"Most of my clients right now are hockey players," Mitch reasoned. "It's a good opportunity." He sounded more sure of himself than Auston would have expected but still nervous.

"The offices aren't anywhere near the rink, really." Auston thought about it. He had gotten lost there more than once. It's why the nutritionists always came to the players instead. Plus, Maple Leaf players tended to attract attention, even in their own building. "It's kind of like just another office building. I don't know if that helps. Maybe me or Dyls can take you on a tour so you get to see it before you decide?" He offered, just a touch too eager to be the one showing Mitch around anywhere he needed or wanted to go.

"That's sweet. You're sweet," Mitch told him fondly.

Auston felt himself warming, he looked down. He wasn't embarrassed- he just- couldn't look right at Mitch. He knew exactly what Mitch was seeing even without looking at him.

“Auston?” Mitch asked quietly. He sounded a little nervous. Auston hated to think he was the cause of that. He knew at least one way he could even the playing field but--

"I had a boyfriend once," Auston said quickly. Mitch leaned back a little bit, surprised. He hadn’t been expecting to hear that but Auston hadn’t really expected to blurt it out either.

"Seriously?" Mitch narrowed his eyes. "Wait. How long ago was this? How old were you?"

Auston tugged his hat over his face, sliding it off his head completely. He mumbled something but Mitch couldn't hear it.

Before Auston could see him, he could hear Mitch's grin as he sweetly asked, "What was that?"

"Eight," Auston said, louder but still through the hat.

Mitch's smile grew more endeared and less shit-eating. "That's sweet, Auston."

He was going to need Mitch to stop calling him sweet before he started believing it. Auston tried to remember that summer. It was almost blurry in his mind, trying to recall memories from almost a decade ago. “We held hands. It was cute. And then hockey."

"And then hockey," Mitch sighed. "A lot of my stories either end or start like that."

"Yeah," Auston murmured. He had figured as much. "My mom knows," he said suddenly. "I couldn't stop talking about you when I gave her your cake."

Mitch reached over to take hold of Auston's hand. For a few seconds, he was worried that Auston had stopped breathing but then he felt Auston's fingers curl over his own. A loud exhale filled the quiet room. Auston was aware of every part of his hand that was touching even a millimeter of Mitch's.

"You don't like hockey players," Auston whispered, trying his best not to get his hopes up.

Mitch gave him a sad, sweet smile. "I like you." He took Auston's other hand in his and squeezed.

"You deserve better, Mitch," Auston shook his head but Mitch wasn't letting go of his hands. In fact, he was coming closer. "I'm terrified to come out. You shouldn't be anyone's secret, especially not mine."

"You think I want attention? Assholes are everyone, Auston. I'm not even out at school. It's not worth it. Bakeries, chefs, kitchens-- some are good and some are awful-- just like hockey teams. I just can't. Not right now."

Auston looked up at that, concerned and Mitch squeezed his hands again. "It's nothing we can't handle. It's nothing I didn't already handle," he corrected himself. "You don't have to make a decision now. You've got enough on your plate but I will ask that after the playoffs, you think about it and-- if it doesn't mess up your schedule too much right now, maybe come take a nap with me."

Without saying anything, Auston just nodded. Napping with Mitch sounded like the best possible thing Auston could ever do. Mitch made to let go of Auston's hand but Auston just held on tighter. He tugged Mitch closer and gave him a small, caste kiss on the lips.

He sighed happily and smiled. When he opened his eyes, Mitch was smiling back at him. This time, Mitch leaned in and kissed Auston, the same little kiss. Auston was in heaven.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Auston exhaled, surprised with just how okay he was. He smiled and brought his hands up to his face. "I'm really okay." Mitch reached up and took one of Auston's hands in his own again.

"Come on, Matty," Mitch said quietly. "Nap, then playoffs, then everything else." And Auston followed him.

  
===========================================  
after the playoffs  
===========================================

  
"Dylan. Timezones." Connor mumbled into his phone.

"Auston is here!" Dylan shout-whispered.

"Do we hate Auston now?" There was more rustling on Connor's end, which Dylan could bet was his best friend pulling the blankets up over his head. "S'early."

"No, I woke up and he was curled around Mitch. It was super cute."

"You looked in Mitch's room?" Connor asked, surprised.

"The door was wide open," Dylan explained excitedly. "The bed was extra lumpy. I had to look twice."

"They've slept together before though, right? Napped together, I mean." Auston and Mitch's Whatever Status™ was an open secret in their family. Everyone knew they were waiting until the summer to have a big talk.

"Yeah but it's always been with clothes, Davo," Dylan said dryly. "I don't normally see my brother's pants right inside the doorway."

"Well, they did say they were going to figure it out and make a decision after the playoffs," Connor hummed. "Can I go back to bed now?"

"You do that. I'm going to buy a bunch of eggplants and arrange them on the kitchen counter so they say 'congrats.'"

"Real mature."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr >> same username if you have questions or even prompts!  
> i'm hoping to add another section in a 'series' that's just deleted scenes or stuff that didn't fit it but i just wanted to say thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments. it means alot. thank you and i'm glad you liked the story


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